Wrong Number
by Calicy
Summary: In which Spock attempts to give his daughter dating advice


*****Disclaimer: Some accidentally discussion of kinks between parents and children.*****

**He's messaging to me! What do I do?**

Spock analyzes the message before him. It is from his daughter, a mostly rational being who is not prone to sending him casual observations on her daily life. However, being that she is several light years away from him, on Earth studying for her Master's in Biomedical Engineering, he determines it is an attempt at conversation.

Grayson was nineteen years, ten months, and fourteen days old. There was no logical reason that she would remain at home with himself and her mother, nor had they did they desire to inhibit her in any of her endeavors by restricting where she went to school or where she choose a domicile.

Yet, he often found himself making remarks on the limited contact he had with his child to Nyota. Recently, while attempting to allocate recreational time on their upcoming shore leave on Mars to a possible visit to Earth to see Grayson, a Sisyphean task which would ultimately have resulted in a visit lasting approximately twenty three minutes with a roundtrip travel time lasting nineteen hours in duration, his wife had rolled her eyes and said, "I miss our baby too."

It was not cogent to miss his daughter. When he himself had been the same age, he too had attended school away from his parents. It was not a sound idea to expect she would be different and yet he found himself unprepared for her absence. As it stood, she had remained on the Enterprise by partaking in her collegiate studies via a digital program.

His fingers are much too quick, however, when he responds to his daughter's odd text message, **Have you considered responding to his correspondence, Grayson?**

She responds and laced within her words, he can easily visualize her eyes making orbits in their sockets at his inquiry. '_**Have you considered responding to his correspondence?'**_ **No shit Sherlock. But what do I say.**

Many elements of human conversation elude him but he has established several maneuvers which he often deploys to eliminate awkwardness. One tactic, which he has yet to find an exception for, involves a compulsion many humans experience: talking about oneself.

**Make an inquiry regarding the activities he participated in today. **

**I'm not asking him how his day went.**

8.3 seconds pass and then, quickly:

**But I can't think of anything better so fine.**

He allows nine minutes and thirteen seconds for the unknown male to responds to his daughter's request. As he is crafting query regarding their communication, a flurry of text message responds appear on his PADD.

**He said fine.**

**He's telling me about his research project. Sounds interesting.**

**He wants to know about my finals.**

This continues for eighteen consecutive messages until . . .

**He just said I had nice hair. Is that flirting?**

**For some unknown reason, I responded that I liked the shoes he wore last week to class. We're both bad at this.**

Then it appears that the button which capitalizes letters on Grayson's communicator breaks. Nyota has informed him this is a textual representation of yelling. Spock finds the whole concept somewhat unfortunate.

**HE'S ASKING WHAT I'M DOING THIS WEEKEND.**

**HE WANTS TO SEE ME.**

Spock watches the messages appear, recalling vividly: his child, as a small infant, sprawled on her belly for what the human infant development specialists he had researched called, "Tummy Time", crying in frustration at her inability to lift her own head, requiring gently coxing to continue attempting to overcome the physical shortcoming. At the time, he had been unable to predict on Graysons's appearance in the following week, let alone comprehend the woman she would become.

**What do you think of that? **Grayson asks.

**Is he kind to you, Grayson?**

**Always. He's such a sweetheart. I can't even believe he's interested in me. I really thought I had pheromones for assholes or something.**

**I am pleased.**

**He's so smart too. I love talking to him. I swear I almost failed Prof. Roto's class because we were always whispering to each other about string theory or the stock market or whether pie was better than cake or whatever else came across his mind.**

Spock begins crafting a response– **Is he the same age as you? **– when his daughter interrupts his writing with the following:

**I get shivers thinking of his hands too.**

Spock withholds his response as he is unable to construct a coherent one. As his daughter shares several intimate and some rather obscene thoughts with him, in thinly veiled innuendo and some blatant descriptions, he finds himself forcing his breathing into a calming cadence. During her puberty, Grayson had had many long discussions with Nyota regarding her changing anatomy. He had been relieved at the time that she had not felt comfortable discussing the topic with him.

It seems his time of reckoning has come. In hindsight, he realizes he would much rather have discussed menstruation than sexuality. The former was much more easily understood.

When Grayson's confessions are finally finished, he managed to send, **Communication is key to healthy relationships, in all aspects.**

**Haha. That's all you got? Nothing more perverted, I? I expected better. You're such a dork. Who are you? My mother?**

Strange, Spock thinks. He responds. **No. As you may recall, I am your father.**

There is no response for exactly twenty three minutes. Spock is uncertain how to proceed and is relieved when Grayson responds first.

**Hey Samekh. You know that cute little habit I have of not saving numbers in my phone? Well when I put this number in by memory, I forgot that you and my friend Imani have numbers which are like two digits different.**

**Understandable.**

**Plus I am doing a project right now too, which I know I should have been focusing on, so I didn't realize it didn't sound like Imani either.**

**It is impossible for most humans to divide their attention.**

**Yeah. **Grayson replies and then rapidly, she sends, **So how's work?**

**I find my work intellectually stimulating but I am currently not able to share any further details with you, daughter, **Spock replies. He searches his memory. He recalls that he too had many predilection he would have liked to discuss with another. He attempts to occupy Grayson's footwear, as Captain Kirk would encourage him to do, as he replies, **You do not need to be ashamed of sexuality, Grayson. Reproductive urges are perfectly natural, particularly for an individual your age. My only hope is that your place your safety and desires in a place of primary importance. **

**Ok. How's Mama? Arev?**

**They are is good health. We now posses several potted plants, which your mother continuously assures me are not a replacement for you. **Spock pauses and then adds, **Additionally, regarding your predilection for digital penetration, I feel it is necessary, as none of your innuendo included references to such, that you require your partner to practice nail care. Your mother can inform you more on the topic. She too has, what I believe is called, a 'hand fetish'.**

**Yes, Father. I'm sorry. I have to go. I have class.**

Spock does not remind her that she had previously informed them that she had every Thursday off. He allows her to sign of the messaging program without protest. The genomic project before him sits undone as he finds himself contemplating the conversation. His awareness only returns when he hears his son and wife returning.

Nyota comes to lean on his shoulder and sees his half finished project. She opens her mouth to inquiry on his slow progress but he interrupts.

"I spoke with Grayson," Spock says

"Really? Without me?" Nyota asks, her eyebrows dropping as her eyes squint, her mouth and jaw clenching, "You should have told me! I would have taken a break and come up!"

"You were translating the treaty," Spock reminds her, "It would have been imprudent to take you away from your work."

"I would have wanted to talk to Gray," Nyota says, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was accidental," Spock says.

"Accidental?" Nyota asks, "What do you mean?"

Speaking has become difficult for Spock as he attempts to find the proper words to describe what happened to him earlier in the afternoon. Nyota stares at him, compounding his verbal difficulties.

"What did you talk about?" Nyota asks.

"There is an unknown male."

Nyota's annoyed expression fades and her faces falls into a wide grin, "Ah. Tell me more about this 'unknown male'."

"She described him as kind, smart, and enjoyable to talk to," Spock says.

"Good," Nyota says, settling on his arm rest, "I'm glad, especially after that asshole Jason."

Spock's feels a rush of primal anger at the mention of her daughter's previous romantic companion, an individual who had often felt inclined to mock and belittle their only daughter. Nyota touches his shoulder and he says, "The unknown male appears to be a vast improvement on past liaisons."

"What else do you know about our Gray and this unknown male?" Nyota presses.

"That is all," Spock lies.

"Really?" Nyota says, "See this is why you should let me talk to Gray when she calls. I would know this boys shoe size and birth weight. You didn't even this to get his name from her."

"I am aware of some of his physical features as well. She described his hands in great detail."

Nyota's head cocks to the side, "Now why did she tell you about his hands? And why did you say it was an accident that you talked to her?"

Spock, still at a loss for words, hands her the PADD which still displays the conversation he had with his daughter. Nyota's eyes pass over the screen, her eyes widening as she reads the conversation. Spock can pinpoint her exact location in the conversation by the manner in which her jaw drops.

Nyota hands him the PADD when she is finished, her face slack. "Well, now I know why you were being so quiet earlier."

"Are you agreeable to the fashion in which I handled her correspondence?" Spock asks.

Nyota's mouth pinches, "You mean, do I think you handle the conversation with our daughter about," she pauses unable to find the right term, "this topic well? Yes, I think you tried."

"The term Grayson used was - "

Arev, appears carrying a large PADD which displays his physics presentation, and Nyota hushes Spock, "Look, look. Our son got an A on this presentation."

Arev pushes the images across the screen, showing them to his father. Spock watches, nodding, "Very accurate, Arev."

"Thank you," Arev says, laying the PADD down, "His name is Evander but Grayson and his friends call him Evie."

"To whom are you referring?" Spock asks, glancing down at the presentation lest he missed something.

"The unknown male," Arev says, "His name is Evander or Evie. I don't know if you're friends with him. I mean you know about his hands and everything."

"You have very sensitive ears, Arev," Nyota says, squeezing Spock's shoulder, "Sometimes your father and I forget."

"Yeah and sometimes Gray leaves her PADD open and I see her browser history and her accounts," Arev says, "I saw his name a while back when she was home for winter break. Evie is the same age as her. He's a chemical engineering student. He likes baking, the color green, and watching rugby."

"Your sister deserves privacy," Spock says, "Do not review her PADD without her permission again."

"You just share an entire conversation she mistakenly had with you," Arev protests, "You told Mama all about her finger fucking kink and I didn't!"

Spock winces at the words as they come from his son's mouth. He looks to his wife for guidance but her mouth is pinched tight, her eyes focused on the floor. He easily recognizes the expression: she is attempting to suppress a laugh. Which feature of the conversation she finds humorous, he cannot begin to ascertain.

"Tell me more about Evie, Arev," Spock says. His wife glares at him but there is no point in being sanctimonious: he is a nosy father.


End file.
